FICLET: One White Day (Cedric/Hermione, G)
Title: One White Day
Pairing: Cedric/Hermione
Rating: G
Word Count: 585
Summary: Remember Cedric Diggory.
Additional Notes: Pinch-hit for hp_kris_kringle.
Nobody had forgotten what happened at the Triwizard Tournament, and the next year when they returned to Hogwarts, Cedric Diggory was all they ever talked about. They whispered in hushed tones that dwindled immediately to silence whenever Cho Chang or Harry Potter passed by, eyes following discreetly, wondering what stories they could tell. Everyone had their Cedric Diggory story, one memorable anecdote each for the times that Cedric was kind, or pleasant, or so much as threw a smile their way.
Neither Ron nor Harry were speaking to her, and Hermione could think of fewer ways that Christmas could have been more horrible. She drew her coat closer around her, stumbling through the snow, certain at least that Hagrid would have kinder words to give her, would tell her that yes, she did the right thing.
Remember Cedric Diggory, Dumbledore had told them. Remember the boy who was good and kind and who stood in the way of evil.
And everyone did.
"It's only a stupid Firebolt," she was mumbling to herself, walking less and stomping more. The snow was thicker in these parts, and she tried hard not to think about what Ron and Harry must think of her now. "I just spoil their fun, don't I?"
"Watch out!"
Something cold and wet hit her hard, and she fell like a bowling pin, sitting in a foot of snow. Something in her snapped, and Hermione Granger started to cry.
"All I know is," the obnoxious blond boy who'd come to the Hog's Head said, "That Dumbledore told us that Diggory had died, and that was all. He didn't tell us how--"
"I'm not going to tell you how Voldemort murders people," Harry replied hotly. "I'm not here to talk about Cedric Diggory, so if that's all you came here for, you can leave now, okay?"
The boy didn't back down from glaring right back at Harry, and in a split moment he turned to glare at Hermione.
She licked her lips. "So, like I said, if we really want to study Defense Against the Dark Arts--"
"Oh, hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry," a boy said, kneeling down beside her. Now she felt even more foolish, and she cried harder. "Hey, hey. Are you okay? Did you break something?"
She sniffled a little, shaking her head quietly before she composed herself long enough to reply. "Wasn't you," was the best she came up with, blinking up at the boy who'd thrown the snowball at her. "It's okay, really, it's just been an awful day."
He smiled at her kindly. "Come on, on Christmas?"
"I'm a spoilsport, I know," she said, nearly tearing up again but catching herself in time to grin uneasily back at the boy, who offered his hand and helped her up.
He laughed a bit. "I'm sure you're not. There's hot cocoa in the Great Hall, let me help you dry your coat over there, if you like?"
She smiled shyly at him. "Okay."
Hermione remembered hot cocoa by the Great Hall, wet from snow but strangely no longer as cold. She remembered him as the boy who made her smile, who spoke with her past Christmas Day, who sometimes sent her notes and who winked at her like they had a secret whenever they passed by each other in the hallways.
Everyone had their Cedric Diggory stories, and while Zacharias Smith had wanted to know how Cedric Diggory died, the halls of Hogwarts instead echoed with stories of how he lived.
But the real stories were those that would not be told again.
Pairing: Cedric/Hermione
Rating: G
Word Count: 585
Summary: Remember Cedric Diggory.
Additional Notes: Pinch-hit for hp_kris_kringle.
Nobody had forgotten what happened at the Triwizard Tournament, and the next year when they returned to Hogwarts, Cedric Diggory was all they ever talked about. They whispered in hushed tones that dwindled immediately to silence whenever Cho Chang or Harry Potter passed by, eyes following discreetly, wondering what stories they could tell. Everyone had their Cedric Diggory story, one memorable anecdote each for the times that Cedric was kind, or pleasant, or so much as threw a smile their way.
Neither Ron nor Harry were speaking to her, and Hermione could think of fewer ways that Christmas could have been more horrible. She drew her coat closer around her, stumbling through the snow, certain at least that Hagrid would have kinder words to give her, would tell her that yes, she did the right thing.
Remember Cedric Diggory, Dumbledore had told them. Remember the boy who was good and kind and who stood in the way of evil.
And everyone did.
"It's only a stupid Firebolt," she was mumbling to herself, walking less and stomping more. The snow was thicker in these parts, and she tried hard not to think about what Ron and Harry must think of her now. "I just spoil their fun, don't I?"
"Watch out!"
Something cold and wet hit her hard, and she fell like a bowling pin, sitting in a foot of snow. Something in her snapped, and Hermione Granger started to cry.
"All I know is," the obnoxious blond boy who'd come to the Hog's Head said, "That Dumbledore told us that Diggory had died, and that was all. He didn't tell us how--"
"I'm not going to tell you how Voldemort murders people," Harry replied hotly. "I'm not here to talk about Cedric Diggory, so if that's all you came here for, you can leave now, okay?"
The boy didn't back down from glaring right back at Harry, and in a split moment he turned to glare at Hermione.
She licked her lips. "So, like I said, if we really want to study Defense Against the Dark Arts--"
"Oh, hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry," a boy said, kneeling down beside her. Now she felt even more foolish, and she cried harder. "Hey, hey. Are you okay? Did you break something?"
She sniffled a little, shaking her head quietly before she composed herself long enough to reply. "Wasn't you," was the best she came up with, blinking up at the boy who'd thrown the snowball at her. "It's okay, really, it's just been an awful day."
He smiled at her kindly. "Come on, on Christmas?"
"I'm a spoilsport, I know," she said, nearly tearing up again but catching herself in time to grin uneasily back at the boy, who offered his hand and helped her up.
He laughed a bit. "I'm sure you're not. There's hot cocoa in the Great Hall, let me help you dry your coat over there, if you like?"
She smiled shyly at him. "Okay."
Hermione remembered hot cocoa by the Great Hall, wet from snow but strangely no longer as cold. She remembered him as the boy who made her smile, who spoke with her past Christmas Day, who sometimes sent her notes and who winked at her like they had a secret whenever they passed by each other in the hallways.
Everyone had their Cedric Diggory stories, and while Zacharias Smith had wanted to know how Cedric Diggory died, the halls of Hogwarts instead echoed with stories of how he lived.
But the real stories were those that would not be told again.